


Muse

by tveckling



Category: Mozart l'Opéra Rock - Mozart/Baguian & Guirao
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 02:06:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10731915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/pseuds/tveckling
Summary: Written for the prompt "You're my favorite muse."





	Muse

Antonio was too aware of the fact that he was being watched; if Wolfgang hadn’t been sitting at the other end of the sofa he would have thrown himself over the score and read it without trying to hold himself back. Instead he forced himself to take the papers solemnly and thumb through them calmly to get an overview of this new Mozart piece. The impression he got left his heart beating fast, and it was with a slight shake in his hands that he finally opened the first page to truly read the score.

The notes flew past his eyes, creating music in his mind in a way that no one else’s music managed to but his own. Each note added to a wave that pulled him under, again and again, even as he fruitlessly tried to reach the surface. He couldn’t begin to resist, the waves broke down his defenses quicker than he could erect them, and soon he was too lost in the music to even care. It swept into him, drowned out everything else, and his frail human body was too small to contain it all, his head would burst if it continued, his heart would be too overwhelmed to keep up with the music replacing the blood in his veins.

But like the ocean there was a deep to the music, a sort of peacefulness that lied beneath the violent waves. That deep was just as overwhelming, but it was different, beautiful and utterly sublime. He felt like he could dwell there for an eternity, letting the music wrap itself around him. It might never let go, but he wasn’t sure he wanted it to.

“What do you think?”

Antonio opened his eyes—when had he closed them?—and realized he was holding the score much too tight. Quickly he eased his grip and, hoping he hadn’t been too obvious, looked over at his sometimes colleague, sometimes rival. Always on his mind.

Wolfgang was slouching in his usual way, draping himself over his end of the couch in a way that never failed to make Rosenberg fly into a rage. He was smiling easily, his face the very picture of lazy friendliness, but his eyes settled almost as heavily on Antonio as the music he had created did. It seemed like those eyes could pierce through any defense Antonio might have and see every thought and feeling he had, every secret he might hide.

“It is well put together,” he answered quietly, trying his best to act unaffected. His hands weren’t shaking any longer so they wouldn’t betray him, but even so he didn’t want to hand back the score.

“I’m pleased you like it,” Wolfgang said, and Antonio found himself staring as the smile widened. “I had a marvelous muse for this piece.”

Antonio managed to avert his eyes, but since it returned to the papers in his hands he wasn’t sure that was better. “I am sure Mademoiselle Leber will be pleased to hear that.”

Wolfgang chuckled and shifted, leaning forward with a glint in his eyes. “My sweet Constance is truly a marvelous creature and a fantastic muse. Probably the loveliest of them all, I would dare say. But I fear you are mistaken, my dear Antonio, for she is not the muse who inspired me this time.”

Antonio raised an eyebrow, not certain whether he enjoyed Wolfgang’s familiarity or not, and asked softly, “No?”

Wolfgang chuckled again and abandoned his corner, crawling across the couch until he straddled Antonio. Licking his lips with a predatory smile he put his arms around Antonio’s neck. “You are an utterly fascinating being as well, _Antonio_.” The whispered name caused shivers to run along Antonio’s back, and it didn’t help with the heavy weight of Wolfgang’s gaze on him. “You are my favorite muse, you know. My very most favorite,” Wolfgang said and leaned down.

For once Antonio accepted the kiss without so much as a token protest. He was too overwhelmed with emotions to speak. All he could do was cling to Wolfgang, the irresponsible and impossible genius who created so many things that tormented him with their utter perfection. Who used _him_ as a muse to create these perfect things that wrecked him so.

Wolfgang broke their kiss to press his lips against Antonio’s jaw, gripping Antonio’s hair and pulling his head back harshly. Still too overwhelmed Antonio didn’t try to stop the moan that escaped him, and the way Wolfgang’s hungry eyes observed his every movement made him dizzy with want. It was too much, and out of pure self-defense he closed his eyes.

The movement of Wolfgang’s lips against his throat was all the clearer with his eyes closed, and he shivered at the voice that seemed to caress his skin. “My favorite.”

“Muse,” Antonio murmured and allowed himself to get pulled under.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Recital](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13094265) by [Rzan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rzan/pseuds/Rzan)




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